


Drinking the Wine Cellar

by KivaEmber



Series: Wine Cellar [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Post-Heavensward, Pre-Stormblood, and kinda cracky, this is just fluffy indulgence fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 07:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivaEmber/pseuds/KivaEmber
Summary: The Warrior of Light shouts a drunken love confession in front of the entire Ishgardian Republic. The morning fallout somehow results in a happy ending.





	Drinking the Wine Cellar

**Author's Note:**

> I just wrote this as self-indulgence for my WoL and Aymeric. It's fluffy, kinda cracky, but I enjoyed writing it so thought I'd throw it up on here. May write more fic with my WoL depending on how I feel.

“I’ll be taking that, thank you.”  
  
Aymeric didn’t even bother to stop Aza as the Miqo’te snagged his wine glass the moment the servant set it down. He was far too used to Aza’s obsession in checking drinks at this point, and merely let out a half-fond, half-resigned sigh as Aza proceeded to sniff his drink with open suspicion.   
  
“Will you be doing this to every drink, Aza?”  
  
“Obviously,” he seemed content that the wine smelled normal and was now peering down into its crimson depths, looking for… whatever it was he expected poison to look like. “Lucia is inspecting the kitchens, this is true, but not even she is infallible. Someone might’ve slipped something in it when she isn’t looking.”  
  
This was a grim truth. After its rocky beginning, the Isgardian Republic was finally starting to stand on steady legs – but that didn’t mean they didn’t face opposition still. People resistant to change, those who still thought of Aymeric as kin-murdering scum, would love nothing more than to poison his wine at a banquet celebrating the Republic’s recent successes. With that context, Aza’s paranoia was more than well-founded. However…  
  
“But it looks and smells fine,” Aza finally said after a long moment of glaring at the wine.  
  
“But…?”  
  
“But it still needs taste-testing,” Aza finished, and promptly downed the entire glass in one – impressive – go.  
  
Aymeric was unimpressed. “That wasn’t a taste-test.”  
  
“Yes, it was. I taste-tested the whole thing,” Aza set the empty glass down and licked his lips. Aymeric sighed and leaned back in his chair, far too used to this routine to be truly annoyed.   
  
“You’re going to do this all night, aren’t you?”  
  
“Of course!” Aza chirped, shooting Aymeric a pleased smile. “I need to make sure that my dearest friend remains safe from underhanded murder attempts.”  
  
“With no concern for yourself, of course,” Aymeric grumbled, but he let it go. It was a good control measure for himself, anyways. He could hardly get roaring drunk at one of these celebratory banquets, and with Aza policing his alcohol intake (by allowing him nothing), he will neatly side-step any potential disasters.  
  
“I live to protect,” Aza said mockingly, and suddenly stilled as his attention was drawn to something across the room. “Oh, give me a moment – Thancred has a drink. I need to check it!”  
  
With that, his friend was gone – surprisingly swift despite his armour. Not even a stately banquet was enough to get Alphinaud to bully him into something resembling formal. At least Aza left his spear in the foyer with one of Aymeric’s trusted knights, because Aymeric could easily foresee Aza unintentionally whacking people with that ridiculous weapon of his as packed as this banquet hall was. It would be funny to witness, but Aymeric didn’t particularly wish to spend the night calming ruffled feathers.  
  
Shaking his head in fond amusement, Aymeric turned to a fellow politician, content that Aza would entertain himself fine. He will no doubt see him later, when his friend wanted to steal more of his drink. 

 

* * *

  
  
It was two hours later that The Incident occurred.   
  
Aymeric had seen Aza sporadically throughout the night – looking more and more inebriated with each meeting. At some point Thancred began shadowing him, which allowed Aymeric to make the mistake of letting his guard down. Surely, with one of the Scions supervising him, a drunken Aza wouldn’t get into much mischief. No doubt the Warrior of Light will get bored and leave to enjoy the rest of the night in The Forgotten Knight with some of his adventurer friends before he became too rowdy.   
  
Oh, how wrong he was. So very wrong.   
  
It began when Aza practically staggered out of the crowd and made a swipe for Aymeric’s drink. He missed and very nearly smacked Aymeric across the back of his head.   
  
“Oh, sorry~” Aza slurred, gripping Aymeric’s shoulder with one hand and looking like he was trying very hard not to fall over. Aymeric discreetly pressed his hand against his friend’s lower back, genuinely concerned that would actually happen. “S’just, yer all triplely, so… almost got ya there!”  
  
“Aza, how much have you drank?”  
  
Aza stared at him for a long moment.   
  
“…yes.”  
  
Right. Okay then.   
  
Aymeric turned a little more towards him, shifting his hand to grip Aza’s bicep instead. “I think, perhaps, you’ve had enough.”  
  
“Noooope,” Aza shook his head – then seemingly regretted it judging by the grimace that flitted across his face. “N-No, I… am perf- pe… M’fine. Still need to check e’ryone’s drinks.”  
  
“I assure you my drink is fine. I won’t even touch it,” Aymeric resolutely nudged his drink away. He hardly needed the Warrior of Light to keel over from alcohol poisoning, of all things. “Why not retire for the night? Or get some water? I’ll get us some water.”  
  
“No wa’er, no… retiririring,” Aza leaned heavily on Aymeric’s shoulder, enough so that he had to quickly adjust before they both staggered down onto the floor, “This is a celeb-rating! We’re here t’cele… to celebrate you for- for bein’ super… super amazingly perfect.”  
  
Aymeric coughed in surprise, “What?”  
  
“Yes!” Aza, apparently, seemed unaware that he was borderline shouting, “You! Perf- Pel- that word. Thing. Yer like, so perf- that- that it should be illegal.”  
  
Despite himself Aymeric felt his face grow a little hot, seeing some glances sent their way, “Aza, perhaps you should-”  
  
“No, no, it needs t’be said! Yer th’most perfect man ever. And m’countin’ Hau- Harsh- fuck, why’s his name so hard t’say…”  
  
“…Haurchefant?” Aymeric said hesitantly, scanning the crowd for one of the Scions.  
  
“Yes! Even he- he would agree with me! Like, this- he would’ve been cool with it. Gods bless that man,” Aza nodded firmly, though about what, Aymeric didn’t even know, “Yer so amazin’, makin’ this… this Republicul thing an’, an’ bein’ so nice and amazin’ and pretty an’-“  
  
“Aza,” Aymeric quickly cut in, “I think you’re drunk. Maybe-”  
  
“Well, I think you’re beautiful!” Aza instantly replied, definitely drawing attention now. In fact, Aymeric was fairly certain everyone was witnessing this moment with open fascination and- ah, yes, there was Thancred, watching everything unfold with drink in hand and open amusement on his face. Damn him.  
  
“An’ I’ll fight anyone who won’t agree with me! I’ll fight- like, everyone! Including myself!” Aza continued, growing more and more impassioned with each word. Aymeric could only stare, partly out of fascination, party out of mortification.   
  
“I did it before! With- in Whitebrim! With- _me_! Myself! Gods, I was such an’ asshole, like, what the hell me? All that supp- sur- suppressed rage is, not good fer ya, y’know. But s’okay. I beat it all up.”  
  
“…” Perhaps there had been something in that wine after all?  
  
“An’ I had you to come back to,” Aza continued blithely, “Like, after Haurchy died, bless ‘im, I thought nuthin’ in life was gonna be good ‘nymore, and then I worked with you an’ started to love you an’-“  
  
“Okay!” Thancred was suddenly there – which was fantastic because Aymeric almost reeled at that (love? Did he really say love-?) – and peeled Aza off of Aymeric’s arm, “I think it’s time for our Warrior of Light to go to bed.”  
  
“Noooo, go away!” Aza tried – and failed – to smack Thancred in the face. His hand went sailing inches over his head, “M’tryin’ t’confess m’love to Aym-”  
  
“Something which should be done sober, and not in front of an audience,” Thancred cut in, “Ser Aymeric, perhaps you might help me usher our mutual friend out of the spotlight?”  
  
Aymeric, despite his shock, leapt at the chance to remove _himself_ from said spotlight, aware that their unfolding drama was now the centre of attention, “Yes, of course.”  
  
And it took a bit of cajoling and pushing and cursing on Thancred’s side when Aza stooped to hair-pulling, but they managed to bully the Warrior of Light into the foyer and then out into the brisk, cold air of Ishgard.  
  
“Right, I’ll take him from here, Ser Aymeric,” Thancred said, almost fully supporting a half-asleep Aza. “I’ll return him to Fortemps Manor and let him sleep this off.”   
  
“I dun wanna go there,” Aza mumbled, “I wanna go to Aymeric’s.”  
  
“You’re not going to Ser Aymeric’s,” Thancred said, “You’ve already humiliated the poor man publicly, let’s not inconvenience him more.”  
  
“Was m’love confession ember- brasser… the… that word.”  
  
“In the way you did it, yes.”  
  
“If Aza wishes to stay at my home, he is more than welcome to,” Aymeric said, resolutely ignoring the words “Love Confession” for now. The cold air helped to keep a level head, and he managed a smile when Aza looked at him with a sad, woebegone expression in place. “I will just have to join you later, once I am finished here.”  
  
“Yer not mad?” Aza said hopefully.  
  
Confused and bewildered and cautiously happy, more like, but… “Of course not, Aza. If you wish, we can discuss this later. When you’re, ah, sober.”  
  
Aza seemed content with this, giving him a bright, breath-taking smile, but Thancred was looking at him with something edging towards suspicion. What was going through his mind, Aymeric didn’t know, but he met the stare evenly, neatly boxing up his bewildered feelings to be examined later. There was no need to fluster over the words of a drunken man, even if they were words that Aymeric had entertained in one of his most shameful fantasies.   
  
“I am sure you know the way?” Aymeric asked, after the silence between them dragged for a few seconds too long.  
  
“I do,” Thancred finally looked away, “Come along, trouble. I’m taking you to Ser Aymeric’s.”   
  
“M’kay…” Aza said, voice fuzzy with sleepiness. With that, Thancred hauled them both off, and Aymeric watched after them until they disappeared from view. He stayed long after they were gone, staring at the doors leading into the building and considering.   
  
Well, it was time to face the wolves, he supposed. No doubt there would be many who would question him on what just transpired. There had already been rumours that he and Aza were having some scandalous relationship, and this would be fuel to the fire.   
  
…  
  
Would hopefully be the fuel to make that fire true, if he was honest. But he’ll cross that bridge when it came to it.

 

* * *

 

 

Dawn was just beginning to touch the high walls of Ishgard when Aza, very reluctantly, woke up.   
  
Reluctantly, because he currently felt like he had just gone ten rounds with a herd of Morbols, every inch of his body either in pain or nauseous. He made some pitiful little noise into his pillow, trying not to move as everything throbbed.   
  
“Oh Gods, th’fuck did I do last night?” he whispered, wincing when even his quiet whimpering made sharp stabs of pain shoot through his temples. Oh, that made him feel even sicker – please, no, don’t be ill. Don’t be ill. Don’t be ill. Don’t. Be. Ill. Gribillont would tan his hide into a new barstool if he sicked up in one of his inn rooms again…   
  
Speaking of… this bed seemed awfully comfy for one of The Forgotten Knight’s inn rooms. Had he crawled into Fortemp’s Manor by accident? Or taken there, more likely. Ugh, that’s right, he’d been at that fancy schmancy state dinner thing, so one of the others must’ve dragged his drunken ass to Fortemps Manor instead, though his pillow didn’t smell like Haurchefan- wait… wait a minute…   
  
A horrible sinking feeling suddenly accompanied the turning of his stomach. Very slowly, Aza opened his eyes, blinking blearily at the room he was in. The curtains – heavy, from how much light they were blocking – were drawn tight over large windows, making it difficult to pick out details – but enough for Aza to realise two things. One: this wasn’t The Forgotten Knight, and Two: this definitely wasn’t his spare room in Fortemps’ Manor.   
  
He took a few breaths to brace himself before he slowly sat up. The whole room spun and wobbled and he tightly gripped the blankets in an effort to ground himself. He must still be a little drunk if he felt that. Fuck. What the hell did he drink? The entire wine cellar in the Holy See?  
  
“Where is Alexander t’kick my foolish ass in the past?” he groaned, rubbing a hand over his eyes and carefully swinging his legs over the edge of the bed – only to pause.   
  
Huh, he was… a little naked?  
  
No, okay, he had his breeches on, and the undershirt that went beneath his armour, but otherwise he was stripped. He never did that when passing out in a drunken stupor. He normally curled up on whatever flat surface was available, fully donned in armour, and his friends normally left him in that state too, as a sort of punishment, he assumed, for his foolishness. But now, someone had carefully divested him of his armour and boots without waking him.   
  
Aza stared at his bare feet for a long moment, thinking hard on the events of last night. He… went to that state dinner to celebrate the Ishgardian Republic’s success at being a semi-functioning democracy. Aza hadn’t wanted to go, initially, every fancy banquet he’s been to has ended up with himself or people being poisoned/drugged, or accused of regicide or him somehow becoming unconscious in some way. But Aymeric had asked him, and Aza could never deny that sweet man anything when he asked…   
  
Lovesick, Thancred called him. He was annoyingly right, and Aza felt that odd mix of embarrassment and delight at the thought. Well, so long as he kept it as a selfish fantasy to muse upon, there was no shame in it, right? He could gaze upon Aymeric, enjoy their company together, and carefully keep this love bound up tight so they remained the friends Aymeric wanted them to be. He wouldn’t compromise what they had for his own heart’s foolishness.  
  
Except- something was scratching at his memory now. Aza rubbed at his ear, playing with the earring as he thought. He went to the state dinner, yes, and he was on Poison Watch, as he liked to call it. Chasing after his friends, making sure their drinks were completely safe by drinking it all himself – a dead Warrior of Light was better than dead Scions or Aymeric, in his opinion – and then… things were super fuzzy and… oh, he bumped into Aymeric, because Thancred suggested he said his goodbyes before retiring for the evening and…  
  
And…   
  
…  
  
And Aza… proceeded to say how perfect… Aymeric was and… oh god, no, god no- NO THIS WAS _AYMERIC’S HOME_!  
  
Aza leapt to his feet with a panicked shriek, very nearly falling flat on his face from the violent motion. Oh Gods, what had he done????? Did he honestly do that!?! Did he honestly profess his love for Aymeric IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE ISHGARDIAN REPUBLIC!?!? WHY!?! WHY WOULD HE DO THAT!?!??!  
  
“Why am I such a fucking _moron_???” Aza wailed, miraculously cured from his monstrous hangover as sheer horrified panic set in. He wildly looked about for his armour, and found it neatly laid out on one of those large, wooden dresser things. Aza lunged at it, frantically pulling it on, already compiling a step-by-step Plan on how to fix this Situation.   
  
One: Escape from Aymeric’s home.   
  
Two: Go to an entirely different country, change his name, and get a new haircut. He heard Ala Mhigo was nice this time of year. Plenty of Imperials to act as a buffer between him and anyone Aymeric sent after him.   
  
Three: Never ever ever ever ever ever ever see Aymeric again and crawl into the deepest, darkest hole he could find until everyone forgot there was ever a Warrior of Light including Hydaelyn.   
  
“Thancred will never let me live this down,” he groaned to himself, struggling to do up his belt as he stumbled over to the window. He couldn’t take the front door, now could he? Aymeric might see him – or his butler, and he might offer him tea- DRUGGED TEA, y’know, to interrogate him about “what the fuck was with that confession Aza”?  
  
No, no no no, Aza couldn’t handle Aymeric’s awkwardness at the subject. There was no way he would ever reciprocate. What if he was disgusted? Oh, Aza’s heart wouldn’t take it! He could endure Primals and pain and soul-weary battles and _Hildibrand_ , but not that!  
  
He managed to do up that stupid belt, realised Anima wasn’t with him and presumed that either Thancred had it – or Aymeric. That gave him pause, his hands on the window’s latch, wondering if he would really risk abandoning Anima due to his weak heart.   
  
…  
  
…  
  
No, Anima was Aymeric’s now. He will protect him. Hopefully… maybe…   
  
He started to push up the window – just in time to hear the door creak open behind him.   
  
He froze.   
  
In retrospect, he didn’t know why he did that. He could have easily flung himself out of the window and into the street below. He wouldn’t have broken anything vital and easily ran away before Aymeric could have caught up to him. But he didn’t, and he was glad he didn’t, when looking back, but at that moment…  
  
“Aza,” Aymeric said, sounding bewildered, “What are you-”  
  
“I’VE GOT TO GO MY PEOPLE NEED ME!” Aza shrieked, scrambling through the small gap he had already made – he very nearly made it. But then strong hands grabbed onto his hips and hoisted him back – and Aza let out a truly foul curse and cling to the windowsill with all of his might, wildly thrashing his tail around to whack Aymeric in the face, hoping he would let go from surprise (or irritation).   
  
“Aza- Aza!” There was a sudden pressure where Aymeric let go of one hip to grab onto his tail. Aza let out a high-pitched squeak and went still, too stunned to truly react. “By the Fury- what are you doing?”  
  
“…” Aza thought very hard about his answer, deeply aware that they probably looked utterly stupid to whoever would look up at their window right now. Him, half-hanging out of it and clinging to the windowsill for dear life, Aymeric grabbing his tail what the fuck doesn’t that boy know basic Miqo’te etiquette?   
  
“I’m escaping,” he finally settled on, voice slightly strangled, “Y’know, going to find the deepest hole I can find and die in it, for, uh, embarrassing you.”  
  
There was a long moment of silence – then a sigh.   
  
“Aza, come back inside,” Aymeric said, letting go of his tail (thank goodness) and hooking his fingers into his beltloops to give them a pointed pull. “I’m not angry with you, if that is what you’re worried about.”  
  
Aza stared longingly at the street below, then obligingly wriggled back into the bedroom. He felt a confusing mix of relief and disappointment when Aymeric released him and stepped away once he was standing on his own two feet, but Aza didn’t dare look at him. He stared at Aymeric’s knees instead.   
  
Very nice knees. Yup. Those sure were some standard Elezen knees. Yup.   
  
“Aza, please look at me,” Aymeric said quietly, and Aza was almost in physical pain and hearing the subtle sadness in his friend’s voice. Knowing he would regret it, Aza reluctantly lifting his gaze up to meet Aymeric’s.   
  
Aymeric was dressed in his civilian ware, which was always bizarre to see in Aza’s opinion. He was used to him in his black-blue armour (preferred it, even), that to see him in something that normal people wore always made him double-take. It was telling, though. It meant Aymeric wasn’t intending on going to work today.   
  
Unless it was late afternoon? A glance at the window told him, no, it was late dawn. So…  
  
“Last night,” Aymeric said very carefully. Aza winced. That was Aymeric’s “I-am-traversing-a-verbal-minefield-so-I-will-speak-as-diplomatically-as-possible” voice, “You gave me a confession.”  
  
Oh, so, going right for it. Okay. Wow.   
  
Aymeric crossed his arms over his stomach, his gaze lowering to the floor. Aza was briefly distracted by his beautiful eyelashes. Damn it. “I just wish to clarify that it was… a genuine one, or one simply made in a drunken passion.”  
  
“Uh,” Aza said intelligibly, “It- it was a…”  
  
This was an out, he realised suddenly.   
  
Aymeric was giving him an out. This was a moment where Aza could say “yeah, haha, I was drunk, don’t worry about it” and Aymeric would take it and that would be that. It was on the very tip of Aza’s tongue to take it. He wanted to take it, because it was one thing to nurture a private, pining love for someone, and quite another to suddenly have it out there, exposed, ready to be picked at and judged on. And yet, one of the very few things Aza wanted deeply was suddenly there, so terrifyingly within his grasp. Yet nothing good happened to him without there being a painful, fishhook catch, so, should he…? Shouldn’t he?  
  
Aza swallowed thickly, painfully aware of the silence stretching between them. But Aymeric waited, patiently, watching him from beneath his eyelashes with a very calm, yet unreadable, expression.   
  
‘What do you want?’ Aza was tempted to yell. What did Aymeric want? Did he want Aza to say it was just drunken foolery? Did he want him to say it was genuine? As much as Aza wanted, he was keenly aware he needed to keep everyone satisfied too. Aymeric was his friend, he would kill for his continued happiness, yet at the same time, if Aza was to suffocate his own wishes for it as well, he would do so in a heartbeat.   
  
Something must’ve shown on his face, because Aymeric’s expression gentled, and he took a very telegraphed, slow step forwards. Aymeric was now well inside his personal space, but he didn’t touch him or otherwise make any other movement towards him.   
  
“Aza, I don’t want you to worry about my own thoughts at the moment,” Aymeric said, “I want you to say what is truly on your mind. I will not be angry, or disgusted, or disappointed.”  
  
How did Aymeric get so good at reading him? Or was Aza so obviously transparent at this moment?  
  
“I… it was genuine,” Aza said quietly, to the floor. His heart felt like it was going to squeeze out from between his ribs. He hadn’t felt this shaky since he was face to face with a Primal for the first time. “Not a very elegant or well-thought out confession but… it is true. I care deeply for you, Aymeric, and, though it took me time to make peace with it in regards to Haurchefant, I cannot deny that I love you too.”   
  
There was a moment of silence before Aza mustered his courage to look up – and very nearly startled at Aymeric’s breathtakingly beautiful smile. He looked so happy, so pleased, that Aza was certain he was staring like a slack-jawed idiot at the sight.   
  
“I am glad,” Aymeric murmured, low and happy – the fur on Aza’s tail fluffed out as that voice made all sorts of nerves spark with interest. “For it seems our feelings are mutual. Though,” his smile turned wry, “It seems you were the braver one. I was ready to take these feelings to the grave.”  
  
“Bwuh?” Aza said stupidly, utterly stunned. “Wh- wait, you- you recip- huh?”  
  
“As I’ve made you say it, I’ll say it too: I care deeply for you as well. I don’t know if it is love,” Aymeric admitted, “But it is certainly something close to it. You are my dearest friend, and… I am hopeful for more if…”  
  
For the first time, Aymeric’s confidence (or calmness) seemed to falter. He seemed a little uncertain on how to proceed, and Aza felt no better. This was uncharted territory, really – with Haurchefant, it was easy. The man loved openly and earnestly, and Aza always knew where he stood with him. With Aymeric, he was… better, than Aza. So much better, so much more inscrutable yet open, but…   
  
“I’m… surprised?” Aza said without thinking, “I-I mean, I’m… are you sure? With me?”  
  
Aymeric blinked at him, as if Aza had said something so utterly moronic, before letting out a startled laugh, “Why not you? Aza, you are amazing.”  
  
Aza was fairly certain his knees were just going to give out on him. He couldn’t take this for much longer – that or the hangover was finally catching back up with him.   
  
“Y-You’re the amazing one! I’m… I guess I’m just surprised that that worked out,” Aza frowned and stared down at his hands, “Things normally go wrong for me right now.”  
  
Aymeric reached out – carefully and slowly, obviously giving time for Aza to pull away if he wanted to (he didn’t) – and grasped his hands. Even with the gauntlets, Aza was certain he could feel the warmth of Aymeric’s hands, and his heart was fluttering, pounding – oh please, hangover, stay away for a moment longer…!  
  
“This will not go wrong for you,” Aymeric murmured, his voice filled a firm promise, “At this very moment, nothing will go wrong.”  
  
“That’s a big promise to make,” Aza said hoarsely. His throat was dry, and he found himself unable to look away from Aymeric. It felt like they were on the edge of something, something that had Aza leaning in slightly, anticipatory, and Aymeric leaned in a fraction too.  
  
“One I intend to keep,” Aymeric’s voice was so intoxicating to listen to, Aza thought absently, “Aza, I want-”  
  
“Master,” the call and the accompanying polite knock on the door startled the two of them from their moment so badly they jolted apart like they’d been burned. Aza hissed a foul curse when he very nearly tumbled out of the window. “A Master Thancred has arrived looking for the Warrior of Light.”  
  
“Tell… tell Master Thancred that the Warrior of Light will be with him anon,” Aymeric called out, sounding surprisingly composed despite the scare.   
  
The butler made an affirming noise, and his soft footsteps slowly moved away.   
  
There was an awkward pause.   
  
“…Hydaelyn why do you fucking hate me?” Aza breathed, a hand on his chest as his heart slowly calmed down from its frantic pace. “What the fuck, what is with that timing?”  
  
Aymeric was pressing a hand against his face, smiling wryly, “Of all the… very well,” he lowered his hand, his smile so adorably sheepish, “It seems that is a promise I was unable to keep.”  
  
“Oh, hush, it’s fine,” Aza smiled at him like a besotted fool, he was sure, “Thancred can wait.”  
  
“Do you really want to risk him coming in here? I believe he is already suspicious of my intentions…”  
  
“Thancred isn’t my father, so he can stuff it,” Aza sniffed, “I’m a consenting adult who knows what they want, and I want you.” He faltered, realising what he just said, “If, um, you’ll have me?”  
  
The look Aymeric gave him definitely made Aza’s knees feel weak then. Thank goodness for this helpful windowsill right here. “I would be delighted to.”  
  
“Good,” Aza said, voice slightly higher-pitched, “That’s good. Um, so…”  
  
“We can reschedule for tonight,” Aymeric said, glancing at the door, “Just to ensure no… interruptions that aren’t the world-shaking sort.”  
  
Oh no, he’s just jinxed it, Aza thought in dismay – but he didn’t care. With Aymeric looking at him with such an expression (delight, pleasure – hunger, mmm, yes, yes, that expression Aza would happily bask under all night), Aza would have blindly agreed to leaping into the Churning Mists. He was so happy. For once, something was going his way…something… he was allowed something.   
  
“Let’s not keep your friend waiting,” Aymeric said, gently brushing his hand against his bicep before turning away. Aza, of course, followed without hesitation, unable to stop the utterly stupid smile on his face.


End file.
